Many years ago Alan Bush talked to me about a discussion he had held
with Shostakovich about the latter’s scores. One of the things he
revealed that Shostakovich had said during their meeting was that he never
revisited or revised his scores once they were down on paper, since this
would dilute his original inspiration. This was not invariably true -
Shostakovich did - under political pressure - bowdlerise Lady Macbeth
of Mtsensk as Katerina Ismailova. In any event Bush thoroughly
disapproved of this reluctance to make any subsequent alteration to a
score even when such amendments might be a clear improvement. In Shostakovich’s
Eighth Symphony one can see what he meant. Written at great speed
in the white heat of inspiration during a mere couple of months during
the summer of 1943, the first two movements have an overwhelming impact.
The long finale consisting of three linked movements has a tendency to
drift until the material from the first movement returns. The lengthy
central passacaglia in particular is liable to lose a sense of involvement
unless the interpretation is particularly intense.

Mind you, one can understand Shostakovich’s reluctance to disturb
the feverish atmosphere which he conjures in this symphony. Initially
the Soviet authorities were happy to capitalise on the composer’s
reputation by selling American performing rights at vastly inflated figures,
but the work was then consigned to neglect until after the death of Stalin.
The cultural overlords of the USSR were clearly aware of the uncomfortable
overtones of the music particularly in the second scherzo. Its scurrying
strings and woodwind and brass shrieks, sometimes sound demonic and sometimes
like screams of pain. Not that they would have had too much to concern
them in this performance.

After Shostakovich’s death and the publication of his controversial
‘memoir’ Testimony, a tendency arose to treat his scores
as symphonic entities rather than simply as a reflection - in the ‘socialist
realist’ manner - of the events of his times. Haitink’s cycle
for Decca emphasised the purely musical aspects without stinting on the
excitement but sometimes the results were lacking in sheer visceral punch.
Gergiev here follows decidedly in that trend. The strings during that
second scherzo scurry about like frightened rats in a trap. They are very
precise in their sense of panic and the sudden interjected chords are
precise rather than shocking. The woodwind and brass are again very accurate,
but there is no sense of agony in their jabbing downward plunges. There
is a similar lack of engagement to be felt in the big climax which crowns
the long opening movement. This is grandiose and forceful but not really
agonised, either here or when it returns towards the end of the finale.
The first scherzo is controlled and slightly on the slow side.

This is the fourth release in Gergiev’s new cycle of the Shostakovich
symphonies - an earlier cycle for Philips remained incomplete. The earlier
discs in the series featured works with obvious histrionic elements. These
found a ready response in Gergiev’s innate sense of drama but the
same elements here tend to elude him. It is clear that he is not aiming
for the sense of involvement that one finds in Mravinsky and Kondrashin.
The players themselves will not have had to live through the same experiences
as the earlier proponents of the score. There is a definite sense that
he is trying to make the music more conventionally symphonic. Many may
like this, but I tend to find the more idiosyncratic approach of a conductor
like Rozhdestvensky does more to engage the modern listener’s sympathies.
In retrospect it is easy to imagine that Shostakovich in 1943 was looking
forward to the ultimate victory of the Soviet forces in the face of Nazi
invasion. In fact, at the time of composition German forces were still
everywhere fighting on Russian soil and Soviet success in the ‘Great
Patriotic War’ could by no means be taken for granted. Nor was there
any certainty that victory would bring any degree of amelioration to the
lot of the Russian people under the threat of further Stalinist purges.
One doesn’t need to accept the ‘testimony’ of Shostakovich
to recognise these elements and a purely musical approach to the Eighth
Symphony surely lacks a basic element in the whole. On the other hand
this recording, assembled from a number of different performances over
a lengthy period, is far better served by the engineers than Rozhdestvensky
ever was. The orchestral playing, if sometimes over-precise, is always
superb. Those following Gergiev’s cycle need not hesitate; others
may prefer to look elsewhere.